Ziggy the Cyborg
by gamegirl07
Summary: What exactly was it like being resurrected by the crude technology of the Life Recycling Act, jarred from certain death? How did Ziggy become the man he is today? All this and more is answered here in the early years of Ziggurat 8.
1. You Poor Lost Soul

Ziggy the Cyborg

Chapter 1: You Poor Lost Soul

There was a soft light around her as she stood looking down forlornly at the man. He watched as her mouth moved to speak, but he could not hear.

"Sharon…" the beleaguered man rasped.

The woman's arm reached out to him and suddenly she seemed so very far away. He began to do the same. He thought he might reach out and take hold of her hand before she faded forever. For some reason, he did not want that image to fade, but the distance between him and her seemed too great.

"Jan, come with me…"

Her voice finally came to him as clear as day as if she were sitting down right next to him. It was when something began to click in his mind. When he attempted to lift himself he found that he could do so with ease. He wondered why he hadn't done so from the beginning. The distance between the two began to lessen as he hastened towards her.

"Don't worry, Sharon. I won't leave you," the man said with a certainty that surprised even himself.

Though his mind could not fathom it, he felt a connection with the luminescent figure before him. She stopped moving further away and he was finally able to grasp her. Yet her eyes remained sorrowful.

"What's wrong, Sharon?"

"Follow me," she said calmly, "I want to give you something while I still can, while we can still exist together."

Without protest, he followed the strange woman. He knew only that he could trust her, but he could not understand why. A door appeared in front of her and she stepped through it effortlessly. The man did the same.

He found himself within a house one that felt so familiar that he knew he must have seen it before. The man looked around mystified by the familiarity even becoming annoyed that his mind simply could not clarify the situation. The woman turned to him then. This time there was a beginning of a smile on her face. It quickly brightened his mood. Who was this woman who could so easily have such effect on him?

"Do not be frustrated, Jan. You are not…fully here. I just wanted you to know happiness for one last time."

"One last time?" asked the bewildered man.

"From here on everything you experience will be tainted with gray. May your soul one day find peace."

Just then a young boy came through the front door. The man immediately felt his joy as he ran over to embrace him. Somehow he knew to bend down to the child's level, he knew what the boy had wanted to do from the outset, but he could not understand why.

"You're here, papa. I knew you'd find us."

"Find you? Why am I…?"

"Joaquin, he is a bit exhausted from his journey."

"Oh, I see," the boy said quietly as he let go of the man and looked back at the woman.

The he felt the boy's eyes on him. "It's okay, papa, you can rest here if you like. But you have to promise me something."

"And what is that?" the man asked automatically. He felt obligated to the boy.

"That you'll come back here someday."

"I will," the man acquiesced without a second thought.

"Joaquin, let me speak to your father alone," requested the woman.

"Alright," the boy said with a hint of dejection, but he soon left the two to themselves.

"Like my son has said, you can rest here for as long as you like, for as long as time permits. While your soul is trapped in limbo, I thought perhaps I could make things a bit more pleasant."

"Thank you," the man replied. It was the only thing he could think to say.

The woman paused before she spoke again. "Joaquin and I, we are trapped here."

The statement alone sent him on edge. "How can I help?" he asked without hesitation.

The woman smiled then. "That's just like you, Jan. Even in the state that you are, you would offer your help. At your core you will always be a protector I suppose. You cannot help us, Jan, not right now, but there will be a time when you can. For now, Joaquin and I will suffice with this false happiness without your presence. It is the way of things. I just want you to remember. I want our memories to lie within you so that you may find some form of comfort on your journey. You poor lost soul, rest now."

He did not know what exhaustion was, but he saw the world around him begin to vanish and he began to panic.

"Sharon, wait!" the man exclaimed as her image began to dimmer

"Peace now. There is nothing you can do. All is out of your reach," came her soft voice.

It was soothing, enticing. The panic he felt disappeared as he fell into a deep slumber.


	2. Resurrection

Ziggy the Cyborg

Chapter 2: Resurrection

"Edith, he's waking," the woman warned the other. She was currently sitting next to the computers that analyzed his vitals. Just then, out of the clear blue, his life signs shot up.

"It's far too soon for that to happen, Lyn. I'm not even close to finishing my procedure. You know what to do."

"This isn't the first time, this has occurred. I've been adjusting and readjusting his fluids for the past hour, but if I keep going like this I'll wound up killing him."

"I see we have a stubborn one," Edith replied putting on a brave front.

In reality she was terrified, not of what she was doing, but her worst fears coming to light—a subject waking up in the middle of a procedure. It was unheard of in that day of age. However, it had always been a possibility when it came to cyborgs. Because cybernetics was still a fairly new form of recreating life, there was no automated machinery to do all the dirty work. Never had there been a case where such a thing occurred. Once dead, one of the most difficult parts of the procedure was the reawakening. Failures were commonplace, but that held little significance as they have plenty of subjects available after the Life Recycling Act was passed. A subject that was eager to wake again—that was one in a million and one that Edith hadn't bargained on seeing up close.

She and a selected few others were specialized surgeons in this field and she came highly recommended. Her hands were so precise and steady that she rivaled even the performance of an automated procedure. When one dealt with the human brain such precision was a must. She still held a scalpel in her hand at the moment bloodied already from the initial incision.

Jan Saur's case had been different from the start. It was unusual for their corporation to pick up a subject who had experienced such trauma, but then he came highly recommended as well. They were willing to overlook how he died by the way he had led his life and all that he had accomplished in such a short time. Edith had been dubious about their candidate—it would be costly simply repairing the damage he had already done to himself. Simply put, she felt that they would have to tinker with his brain far too much. In her eyes, the odds of success seemed abysmal yet here they were.

"What else can we do," Edith questioned Lyn at the computers. She hoped she had kept the wavering from her voice.

Edith looked at her other associates around the table, just two others who the corporation had sent to assist her. They shook their heads as well. So far their usefulness was nil. Aside from giving her the right implements when she asked for them, they were in excess of.

She watched his face carefully; even she could tell that Lyn was not simply pulling her leg. Perhaps she had known already but had not wanted to admit it.

"Lyn, do whatever you can to keep him under for thirty more minutes. That's all I need."

She decided she'd work faster—it was the only choice left.

"But, Edith…"

"Do it. I just need a little more time."

"Alright, but not a minute longer," Lyn finally acquiesced.

"Malek, sutures," Edith ordered the nurse.

So she began by reattaching what she had cut away to get to his brain. There was nothing left to do there if he was already alive again. She made quick work of this. Then she went down to his body. She would make a clean incision from his chest to his torso so that she could apply circuitry there. He was a cyborg, no longer human. His body had to be prepped for further mechanized additions. She was in her element now replacing certain blood vessels with wires that could fulfill the same purpose. These wires had been carefully measured well before the surgery had commenced. It was up to her to find exactly where they fit—a feat that a computer would have a hard time completing.

"Edith, I know you said you wanted thirty minutes, but the anesthesia doesn't seem to be working as well as I thought. His body is rejecting it. Much more and we'll wound up—"

"Yes, Lyn, you've told me this before."

"You only have minutes now."

"Damn it," Edith swore under her breath, "Just a little more time."

She paused for a moment and looked over at his face. There it was again, his eyes moving beneath his eyelids. Could he feel what she was doing to him? Did it disturb him? It seemed as if he hadn't been unconscious at all, but simply asleep and now he was awaking from some deep slumber. If he could feel what she was doing, then he would wake all on his own perhaps in a panic. She shuttered to think what rapid movement could do to all the precious work she had done thus far. There before her, his insides lied completely exposed to her, a beautiful tapestry of metal and wires, but she was not done, not by a long shot.

It was as if time slowed as she watched his eyes open. Perhaps time had not slowed down at all, perhaps the action alone had seemed that way. She couldn't help the feeling of terror that seemed to trap her there. Her eyes grew big. For all her struggle she could not find a way to remain calm. He didn't speak, but it was the way that he looked at her with eyes full question. He hadn't the slightest idea the butchering which she was responsible. His eyebrows began to furrow. Did he feel any sort of pain? She hadn't made any movement or further cuts since he had woken perhaps he felt nothing at all, perhaps he had missed the sensation of pain.

"Please, remain calm, Jan," Edith said with a strong, clear voice; it belied the condition of her hands which had already begun to shake.

"What…is happening," he managed though with a slurred voice.

She was glad that he did not try to move or else he would have realized that he was quite securely attached to the cot with metal bands around his arms and legs. If she played her cards, perhaps she could avoid a catastrophe, he did still appear to be out of it. Just then his eyes began to pick up on the reddened scalpel in her hand that she had been too absent-minded to hide from view. His confusion became panic in a snap. By some sixth sense, he decided to look down upon himself and his eyes grew wide as well.

"What…what _is_ this…" he said with all the effort in the world yet it had come out even more slurred than the last.

He didn't have the strength to even try to move about and he could hardly form words. Edith was in luck. She was still the one in control. Quickly, she placed the scalpel on the small metal table near her where he could no longer see it and came closer to him. It wasn't too hard to garner his attention.

"Jan, do not be alarmed. You have simply woken up at the wrong time. Do me a favor and go back to sleep."

"But…what…"

"All will be explained soon enough when you're ready, alright."

"Sharon…?"

"No," Edith said with cringed eyebrows, "I'm Edith."

"Edith…"

"Yes. Now just let the drugs take effect."

His eyes seemed unfocused now; good. Edith looked back up to Lyn with questioning eyes.

"Whatever you're doing, it seems to be working," Lyn said quietly.

Edith waited until she got the okay again from Lyn before she continued this time with a sense urgency. There was no telling when he would wake again unannounced. She was grateful now to have assistance. She had already ordered one of them to begin sewing him up again as she finished placing in the last few circuits. It took her all of twenty minutes to do and the whole time she hadn't realized how long she was holding her breath.

She was simply glad to be done, glad when they finally rolled the bed out of the room to return him to his quarters. She let out a sigh of relief.

"Well, Lyn, that's enough activity for the day."

"I'll say. We have to go out for drinks after this."

Lyn and Edith had been in the business of cybernetics for a long time now and formed a formidable team. They enjoyed being part of budding technology, they dreamed of being pioneers to a new era. The lure of discovering something that could change the course of humanity as they knew it was near intoxicating.

The day's surgery had taken it out of her like no other. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't stop her mind from going back to the look he had given her. "What have you done to me?" he had seemed to say to her. They were just corpses on the operating table, Edith would constantly remind herself. Their life was forfeit already; she was the one in control. But those eyes. Never had she spoken to a subject before they had gone through mental reconditioning. In fact, she had never given a second thought to what kind of mental trauma a person, no, a subject, would go through after initially waking. She simply wasn't concerned with that. All she was responsible for was reanimating what was already dead. She performed necromancy on a regular basis and she was well sought for.

"You going to actually drink that or stare a hole through the glass?" Lyn asked after taking a sip from her martini.

"Oh, sorry, I was just thinking."

"I wouldn't advise doing that," she replied as she stirred the contents of the glass a little.

"Oh? And why's that?"

"Well, too much thinking could give you a headache," Lyn said with a grin. "And," she continued in a more serious tone, "It leads to more harm than good."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that morally, we're in the wrong here, Edith."

Edith looked at the other in surprise. She hadn't expected the other to openly admit to such things.

"Don't be so surprised. The way I see it, someone has to do the dirty work. How can we as a human race ever hope to evolve if we shy away from things just because it hurts our precious sensitivities? We are on the cusp of something great, can't you see that?"

"Sounds like you're trying to convince yourself of something."

Lyn laughed softly, "Perhaps. I've just…always wanted to be part of something bigger than myself."

"I think I need another glass."

"By all means. What we do, Edith, is not for the faint of heart."


	3. Awake

Chapter 3: Awake

The man found himself perpetually disoriented. His surroundings were unfamiliar. The noises he heard brought no clarity. The cot that he laid in seemed impractical for resting. In fact, it seemed made out of metal. In fact, it _was_ made out of metal. When he attempted to move, he became aware of a rather splitting headache. Instinctively, his hand went up to his forehead and felt its tenderness. He regretted ever touching it in the first place. He vaguely remembered what he had seen while being operated upon so he looked down as well only to find that he was quite bandaged up. When he tried to sit up, the pain from his recent surgery was too unbearable to continue with his endeavor. With a groan, he simply laid back down again.

What was it that she said?—that everything would be explained when he was ready? But when would he be ready? Where exactly was he and how had he gotten here in the first place? He craned his neck both ways only to see bleak gray walls. All he could do was stare up at a ceiling that was equally as unappealing. With nothing to do but wonder about his predicament, time itself seemed to stop moving. There were no windows to tell for sure if this was true. From there on out, he continued to slip back and forth from wakefulness to restfulness. That is when he heard a door creek behind. Immediately, he became attentive or at least as attentive as he could be at the moment.

An older man came into his view. He didn't seem to be looking at him in particular but his bandages. With all the roughness in the world, he pulled at the bandages simply to look under them. Then the man wrote something down quite vigorously on his clipboard.

His vision was blurry as his head swam with dizziness, but he was not too disoriented to forget the questions that had been on his mind all day.

"Where am I? What am I doing here?"

The older man looked down at him with an indiscernible expression and then began to make his way back where he came from out of his view.

"Wait…Please, answer my question." He tried to sit up, but his movement was still quite limited as a jolt of pain leapt through his body. He fell back down with a grunt.

"All in due time," the older man's voice replied from a distance.

"But when?"

"You still have a long ways to go."

With that, he heard as the door creaked once again.

"Wait…Please, wait…"

But already the room was empty with only himself to keep him company. He sighed exasperatedly and his eyes once again traveled to the ceiling.

"Who was that man," he said aloud to himself. He wanted to hear anything besides the sound of his own thoughts.

It was strain enough simply to stay on one thought as if he were intoxicated. For hours, his mind went around and around in a circle until his thoughts became nothing at all. Everything felt strange and foreign even his own body, even his own thoughts. He felt utterly lost in a dark sea of nothingness. He wanted structure where there was none to find. What purpose did he have laying there? What was he meant to do now?

He fell back into the pattern of sleepiness and wakefulness. Intermittently, the older man would drop by and tug at his bandages. Each time, the older man did little to enlighten the other. All he ever did was tug and tug. He grew to resent the older man. Then one day he decided to ask a different question.

"Edith, where is she? Where is that woman?"

"You know, Jan, you continue to surprise me. At this stage, our subjects are quite nonresponsive yet here you are just as inquisitive as ever—I suppose it is something that comes innately to you. Then again, that was your job, wasn't it? Asking the right questions."

"Will you answer my question?"

"Only because I grow tired of you asking. I will send for Edith."

"No, wait, why can't you tell me anything? Don't you know anything at all? Why do you keep coming in here?"

The older man gave an exasperated groan, "I will send for Edith. I am not at liberty to say. I have rules to follow, you know. Edith has no such restrictions. If she feels it is alright to appease you, then she will."

"What rules are those? Why can't you tell me anything?"

"Because she is the one in charge. Well, not technically, but at this point she has the final say so on your condition. Perhaps _this_ may quiet you, our subjects are not to be tainted with outside influence. They must be willing."

"Willing to do what?"

"Well, now I've already said too much. Now I must leave."

"Wait, please, I beg you, don't leave so abruptly. Don't you understand, sir? You can't just keep coming in here like this. You can't just keep leaving me in the dark. I need to understand."

"I have tainted you enough. Our subjects must have clean slates."

"Please…"

"I will say this, it is nice to have someone who is so…what's the word?—polite. With clean slates, our subjects tend to return to much baser instincts. You're different, I suppose. But then so far, you've been extremely different."

The door closed shut again before he could ask anything else. It all felt hopeless. The entire situation, whatever his situation, all seemed quite depressing. He began to think of the curious phrase he kept repeating "clean slate". Perhaps he wasn't supposed to know anything right now, but therein lied another question. Why was that necessary?

He had no inkling of how much time passed by the time the door creaked open again. The footsteps he heard were lighter. Perhaps it was the woman.

"Ah, I see you've been stirring up trouble," Edith said as she came to stand next to his cot.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to, but I simply don't…understand anything."

"I suppose that is a problem."

"Will you answer my questions?"

"You're supposed to have a clean slate—"

"Not this again."

"I see you were able to get Lawrence to speak. Quite a feat. He's dedicated to his job. You must have really annoyed him."

The man tried to sit up once again, but he was still far too sore to actually do so. Edith watched with amusement.

"It's almost as if you weren't meant to die on that fateful day."

"What do you mean?"

"Tell me, do you even know _who_ you are? Do you know your own name?"

"You called me something before—'Jan'—so I assumed that it must be my name. That man, Lawrence, insisted on using it as well."

"And, tell me, do you know what has happened to you? What, if anything do you remember?"

"I…you see, that's the problem. I don't remember a damn thing. Why is it you're asking _me_ the questions? I have nothing to give you."

"On the contrary, you've given me a lot. I'd say the procedure was a success."

"So this is deliberate? What is your goal? Why are you doing this to me?"

"Because you have no choice in the matter. You do understand that don't you?"

The other grew very quiet. "I have no choice? Did I…agree to this?"

"In a sense, but it isn't something you should dwell on. What's done is done."

"What _has_ been done?"

"You just won't give up. Let me put your mind at ease; I'll simply tell you. Your body has been donated to Ziggurat Industries—a corporation that specializes in cybernetics technology. You, Jan, are a cyborg."


	4. Regret

Chapter 4: Regret

It was quite a change of pace with their new subject. Edith found herself becoming more and more involved with his case. When he was able to move on his own, his appetite for knowledge grew almost insatiable. He simply wanted to know everything. She could spend hours trying to explain things to his satisfaction, but even then she was holding back. She spoke only in half-truths and she knew that he knew what she was doing. That was when he began to ask the same questions but in an entirely different way. He seemed well versed in the art of interrogation especially for someone who claimed not to know anything. Mentally, she should have been able to remain two or even three steps ahead of him, but that was not the case. Somehow he was able to wrangle out more information than she had initially wanted him to know. It began to irritate her, but at the same time it fascinated her. Perhaps the corporation was right for choosing him as their next candidate. A cyborg that was also resourceful could turn out to be quite invaluable. The only drawback was deciding what information to give him. Then again, it'd probably be a complete waste of resources to try and selectively keep him in the dark. It may work for a while and to some extent, but eventually he would find out if left to his own devices.

Edith walked into his bare room now at the time she usually did. He sat on the floor no longer lying on the bed. Somehow it seemed wrong; a man like him should have some seat to sit in, but that was how it went. The rooms were kept bare for a reason. She made sure to close the door behind her and then sat down beside him. Usually he would be looking at her intently as if by doing so he could read her mind and all the secrets that lied there. This day, he did no such thing.

"What questions do you have for me today?"

"I have none."

"Well, that's different."

"I know there are things you keep from me purposefully. No matter what I do, you simply will not be forthright. I grow tired of it. Keep your secrets."

She had wanted to hear such words from him for a long time, but somehow when he did say it, it did not make her feel any better. She disliked the resignation in his voice as if he had given up altogether. After all that effort, it seemed unlike him though truthfully, she didn't really know him at all.

"Jan—

"Don't call me that."

"Oh? And why ever not? Most cyborgs at least want to keep their names."

"I don't deal in falsehoods. I'm no longer this 'Jan' you keep referring to. From what you told me that person died."

"You're alive. That's what has happened to you. It doesn't mean you're not Jan, it's…you're just in a different form."

"I am _not_ alive. No matter how you slice it, I am no longer Jan. You can try and sugarcoat it all you like, but things are different, far too different. I don't plan on hanging on to something I've already lost."

"Are you…referring to your humanity?"

"Edith, what do you think it is you do here?"

It was a rhetorical question she realized as he began to answer it for her.

"Your corporation and others like it are in the business of taking back what isn't yours to take. You force what is "dead" to be "alive" again as if the decision was really yours to make."

"Jan—

"What did I tell you about that name," he said tersely.

"Look, that's not fair."

"I'm not finished yet." This shut the woman up. "I never told you this and I wasn't planning on doing so, but I have nothing to lose at this point. For one brief moment of time, I was at peace. I was with _them_. Though I don't know who "they" are, I will know eventually. I want to go back to that place no matter the cost. I don't belong here any longer."

Edith didn't like where he was going with this. "You can't, at least, not now. You want to die, don't you?"

"Haven't you been listening? Do you understand the implications, the sins you have committed?"

"Sins?"

"Shouldn't you be writing this down on your little clipboard? I'm telling you that there _is_ something after death, someplace that one's soul goes. It isn't oblivion or nothingness. Do you think it wise to mess with forces that aren't fully understood?"

Then Edith did begin write something down. The man watched her then with a questioning look.

"Ah, so do you have a question for me?"

Then he looked away from her once again with slight annoyance. "What did you write?"

"That perhaps I've taken too many liberties with you. That you've begun to stop making sense altogether."

"And that's what you plan to report; that you think I'm crazy. Isn't your report a bit tainted with subjectivity? As a professional, you are expected to keep an impartial, objective stance."

Edith was taken aback. "Where did you…hear all of that from?"

"You say I was formerly a police officer. Perhaps I took it from there."

"Perhaps."

"It is fine that you don't believe me. I never expected you would. I just wanted to tell someone else besides myself."

"I see."

"Edith, I have no rights, you can do whatever it is you see fit to do with me, but even so, I will eventually get my way."

Edith stood up then, the air suddenly becoming uncomfortable. "I suppose I expected as much from a man who's already committed suicide, but it won't be that easy."

The man simply looked at her completely unperturbed by her statement as if to say "So, what?".

"You do realize that there are already special sequences encoded into you DNA. You will not be able to intentionally harm yourself and when you are asked to do a task you will be obligated to perform to the best of your ability."

"Do what you please," he replied simply.

Edith was a little put off by this. He wasn't nearly as effected as she thought he might be. "There is still the subject of your name. What is it you want to be called?"

"Ziggurat 8."

"But that's just a—"

"Yes, I know."

"How about 8 for short? Our corporation is called Ziggurat so it'd be confusing to always call you that."

"Do as you please."

"Will that be your new catchphrase, then," she said with irritation.

When he said nothing back, she left promptly. The air was far too thick anyways. She left him there to his own darkening thoughts. She wondered if she had told him too much. Perhaps she should have held back even more on the information she gave him, but it was too late now. He had formed his opinions whether she wanted him to or not. She could tell that he disliked what they had done to him, but that couldn't be helped. Besides, she doubted she'd ever like being in his position. As far as she was concerned, the process was coming along smoothly. His recovery was going well. Eventually he would be strong enough for another procedure she had to give him, one that would completely prepare him for the life of a cyborg. After that, she'd have to bring in a psychiatrist to confirm that he was mentally stable and then he could be given a clean bill of health.

She was doing everything that was expected of her to do, yet she couldn't shake the feeling of regret. What exactly was she doing? Was she really committing a sin? Was there really some form of peace that the soul could attain after death? If so, if this was in any way true, then what she did was perhaps the most despicable act of all. Her pace quickened as she made her way to the restroom. For some reason, she couldn't stop her eyes from tearing up and she didn't want anyone else to see. Objectivity? What a joke. She'd already become far too emotionally involved. It didn't help that her subject had a mind of his own or that he made so much sense. It was hard to put up a brave face around him. He could see right through it anyways. Perhaps that was why he had said the things he said. Perhaps he knew that she would react this way. Or maybe she was giving him too much credit.

Her visits became less frequent and the cyborg made no comment on this. The conversations they used to have disappeared. He spoke little, much to her annoyance. Oddly, she had begun to enjoy the time she spent talking with him. Obviously, he hadn't felt the same. There was a sense of hopelessness there that she hadn't seen before. His eyes were often downcast and he wore an almost neutral expression. Perhaps it was for the best. There was nothing to be gained from thinking too much, not in his position. Cyborgs were expected to fulfill their duties when the time came and it seemed that he was steeling himself for that very time.

"Alright, 8, you are due for another surgery," Edith said upon entering his dreary room. "Climb on the bed."

This he did silently.

"Last time you woke in the middle of surgery. Let's not try to repeat that experience."

"I'll do my best."

"So you will," Edith said with a frown.

Was this all part of his cunning scheme?—to make her feel guilty? Was it payback for what she had done to him? Whatever personality she had seen in the past seemed completely nonexistent now as if he had simply closed himself off.

"How long do you think recovery will be," he asked.

Edith grinned. She knew he couldn't resist asking. "Much longer than before," she said vaguely.

"You do that to annoy me, Edith. How top secret could recovery time be?"

"Not that it matters anyways. You have no idea how time passes anymore. It could be night or day outside and you wouldn't know."

"No, I wouldn't."

Perhaps he wasn't completely lost. Perhaps she could lessen her sin if she could help him retain at least some part of his natural personality.

Lyn was already there at her computers. She immediately got to work placing IVs and prepping her machine. When he was completely knocked out, Edith commenced.

This time, there were no complications as she continued the strenuous work of replacing blood vessels. She no longer had to deal with his brain. Everything else was connected to the spine which in turn led to the brain. No doubt he would be in immense pain for a few weeks as his body became accustomed to the modifications. Even his blood was modified. Only time would tell if his body would accept the new changes or simply die. Somehow she knew that he would survive and that she had nothing to worry about.

Ziggurat 8 was taken back to his room in the same manner as last time and like last time he awoke almost immediately after the drugs began to lessen their hold over him. Edith was not there at that time. If she was, she might have witnessed his moist eyes as if he were about to cry. In fact, it was an involuntary reaction to the sudden onslaught of pain. It was as if he was caught up in an inferno and there was no way to escape. Impressively enough, he remained silent the entire time. He did not cry out in pain. He did not beg for painkillers. He simply took it. He closed his eyes; his body submerged in scorching hot water.

After the third day of feeling the same sensation without even a hint of it going away, he knew that he could take no more of this torture. Where had Edith gone off to? Why hadn't she visited at least once? Yelling would make no difference. He knew the walls to be too thick. The only way out was through the door. With a loud a groan, he made the decision to put up with even more discomfort as he lifted himself out of his cot.

It was the first time in a long time that his feet had touched the ground in such a way, even longer that he had actually walked for any long distance. He had forgotten how unused his legs were—the most he had done in the past was crawl. That coupled with the sudden increase of pain caused him to crash to the ground. He let out a cry of exasperation as he waited for his bearings to come back to him. Painstakingly, he turned his body towards the bed, so that he could use it as a crutch. The climb back to his feet took longer than he had anticipated. His hands and then his arms gripped onto the bed for dear life as he climbed higher and higher. Sweat was already beginning to bead on his forehead. For a few minutes, he leaned against the cot until he was ready to put forth more effort. At snail speed, he made his way to the wall that the door occupied. Bending his knees required more energy than he thought initially. When he made it to the wall, he felt as if he had run a marathon.

He reached out for the doorknob and found that it was open. This fact didn't surprise him. Each time someone had entered his room, he never heard any keys. He knew also that the door was pretty low-tech—there was no sign of a control panel beside it last time he had checked. Besides, each time he had checked the door before, it would always be open without fail. Perhaps they didn't think he had the presence of mind to try to escape. Perhaps this entire venture was ill-advised. If there wasn't security here, surely there would be some in other places. But Ziggurat did not feel like thinking along those lines. Funny how pain could drive him to do something so utterly fruitless.

He _needed_ to do something. He had to feel like he was getting somewhere. Sitting down not doing anything didn't seem like his style—if there was a style to be had, Ziggurat thought grudgingly. Slowly he made his way out the doorway into a hallway that seemed just as dull as his room. He guessed that Ziggurat Industries put more care into cybernetics than aesthetics. Now that he was here, though, he had no idea where to head. He simply chose a direction and continued down the hall. Every step of the way, he leaned against the wall. He could hardly trust his legs to respond correctly.

The hall seemed never-ending and the building seemed strangely vacant. Who exactly worked here? Was the corporation also tight-pocketed on how many employees they hired? For some reason, he couldn't put it past them. From what he had seen so far—whoever ran things didn't seem overly lavish. He continued to inch forward until, lo and behold, he heard the sound of working computers. He didn't care if someone was there or that he might garner far too much surprise for anyone to help him. He had gotten this far, it was too late to turn back.

He came to the opening and peered around the corner and saw the kind of bustle of activity that a media center might experience. White coats were everywhere. Wires galore ran down the length of every side of the room. There were lounge chairs that took up the center of the room—it seemed to hold an important purpose. Two of them were occupied by men that seemed to be dozing in the middle of all the chaos. They seemed utterly out of place.

"Okay, I have to focus…" Ziggurat told himself quietly.

No one saw him standing there in the doorway as he stepped from behind the corner. His eyes searched for Edith in a methodical manner. Then, he found her. She was there at one of the larger computers completely engrossed in it. Without a second thought, Ziggurat began to make his way towards her. That was when the noise level dropped a few decibels. It wasn't long before he felt many eyes on him as he made his painful trek over to the woman without any support. He really was running a marathon then. His mind and vision was one track. Even as the sound continued to die down, Edith never noticed his approach until his shadow fell atop her.

"He can't be here…" Ziggurat heard others whisper, "What is that man doing here?" "Isn't that the eighth model?" "Is he supposed to be able to walk already?"

He waited silently for her to look up. The look on her face when she did was pure surprise. It had a satisfying effect on the other. For some reason, he felt that he had the upper hand. Upper hand in what; he didn't know.

"What in the world are you doing here?" the woman said in an astonished tone.

When she said it that way, he began to wonder why he had gone through all this trouble just to see her, just to ask a simple question.

"I haven't…seen you in a while," he began slowly. The surprise still hadn't left her face. "I wanted to ask for your help, but I didn't know how."

"So you decided it'd be alright to go looking for me all over the building? Did you have any idea where I would be at?"

"No."

"In _your_ condition…" she began and then sighed inwardly, "Well there's nothing I can do for it. You're here now." Then she laughed.

Ziggurat looked at her curiously. "I missed the punch line."

"You're the punch line, 8. I guess it's completely logical. You're _so_ one-track, do you know that? Now what did you want help with?"

"This pain that I feel, you hardly warned me of any of this happening. I just want something to spare me from having to continue this way. I swear if I go one more day like this…"

Edith waited for him to finish, but evidently he had nothing else in mind to say as he simply left it at that. "I'm sorry, 8, there's nothing I can do at the moment. You'll just have to suffer through."

"Somehow, I'm not surprised with your response."

"So what will you do now, 8?"

"There's nothing else I can do now, is there?"

Just then a white coat walked up to the duo. "Dr. Rose, want me to take the cyborg back to his quarters?"

Ziggurat looked over at the man with a frown. What had he been called?—a cyborg? How far down had he fallen in the social hierarchy? He was no longer "man" but "cyborg".

"No, no," Edith said dismissively, "One has to appreciate the amount of effort he put in just to make it here. I hope to continue to see that kind of tenacity."

"It's dangerous to condone such disobedience."

"What disobedience?" Edith questioned, "He was never told to stay in his room. We have all simply assumed that he was incapable of leaving it on his own. His door was no doubt unlocked. The fault it seems is with us."

"So what are you going to do with him, Dr. Rose," the man asked gruffly.

Ziggurat noticed that the man avoided his gaze quite deliberately.

"I think having him stay in that room is doing more harm than good. He's inquisitive, he's always thinking—he needs something to occupy his mind."

"But, Dr. Rose—

"What was it that killed off our first three cyborgs, Dr. Michael? They were unable to think for themselves. They were unable to adapt to the situation. That is the main obstacle we face with our cyborgs. No amount of programming can create resourcefulness—it is an organic trait. As you can see here, 8 can think on his own. He can discover his own solutions. He is to be applauded."

"You're walking a thin line, Dr. Rose. How can there be obedience and free-thought?"

"I understand your concern. It is true there must be a balance. Perhaps we can find that balance starting with 8. He's broken none of the rules we've set before him. He's harmed no one."

"Alright," the man said caving in, "Have it your way. Were you anyone else I would question your judgment, but you've proven your worth around here."

"Thank you, Dr. Michael. Now find this cyborg a chair. I'm sure his legs are killing him."

Ziggurat was thankful for this request.

"8, since you're here, I think it would be better if you stayed. Is that alright?"

"Your wish is my command."

There may have been a hint of sarcasm there, but Edith wasn't completely sure. His expression revealed nothing. A chair was found for the exhausted cyborg and he sat down immediately. He let out a sigh of relief before he could stop himself and received a grin from Edith. Slowly the noise crept back up to its original level and it was as if nothing had happened at all.

"I'm sorry for causing you trouble," Ziggurat said as he watched the other return to the computer.

"It was no trouble. I was falling asleep anyways; I needed the jolt of energy. If there's one thing I envy about cyborgs, it's that they don't become tired in the same way that we do."

"What do you mean?"

"A cyborg's brain is always "on". Electrical pulses are always flowing there and circulating about the entire body. A cyborg can go on for days, even weeks without needing a recharge."

"A recharge?"

"See those two men in the chairs?"

Ziggurat nodded at the other.

"They're receiving maintenance. After a certain amount of time, a cyborg must be "refreshed". They need a fresh charge of energy—their systems need to be cleaned."

"Like…dialysis just with electricity."

"Exactly. It helps that you're a quick study. Those two are older models. They can't last for more than a few days without maintenance and it takes a few hours for it to be completed. You're different. You're our new shiny model 8. Maintenance is almost an optional activity. While it's recommended that you receive it every couple weeks, you can go without for much longer and when you do undergo maintenance, it'll take only a few minutes. If the other models were capable of emotion, they'd be completely jealous."

"I see," Ziggurat said thoughtfully. "Sounds extremely convenient."

"I'm glad you've accepted the fact that you're a cyborg."

"I had no choice, of course."

"8, you're capable of making this process as rough or as smooth as you want it to be." Edith only received a "hmph" from the other.

"So humor me, Edith, what is it on this computer that had your complete attention?"

"Research," she said simply. "It's always good to keep tabs on your competition. From what I've read so far, I can honestly say that among the cyborgs that do exist, you are the most advanced."

"A good and bad thing, I suppose."

"Bad?"

"I'm less likely to die, right? I do feel jealous of the first three models. Due to unforeseen circumstances, they died. It isn't likely to happen again for the likes of me."

"So you insist on being suicidal."

"With the same passion you put into creating who I am now."

His eyes weren't even challenging just then. The way he said it, such things were a fact and there was nothing she could do to change it.

"Alright," Edith said letting the matter rest. "I'll allow you your resolve. Even a cyborg must have a goal they're moving towards."

"Aside from the surgeries I have received, I am much the same as I was when I was alive."

"Is that a problem?"

"Aren't there any modifications?"

"You mean like improved strength or eyesight?"

"Yes."

"I wouldn't think you'd want to be bothered with such things. They only serve to increase your ability to survive."

"More machinery would be replacing my organic parts."

"Yes, of course, wait—what are you planning?"

"Nothing at the moment. I was simply curious."

"Are you telling me you want more surgeries? The initial ones are the least extraneous ones. I've never heard of a cyborg willingly wanting more where that came from unless he was told to."

"Well, you've heard of one now."

"I think you're fine the way you are. Modifications are traditionally for those with disadvantages and you have advantages upon advantages."

"Even so, it is still an option for me."

"You're a strange one."

Edith was already engaging herself back to what she was previously doing. He noted that she had quite a short attention span. He watched her for a while, but then he began to pay closer attention to the things that were happening around him. Just from looking, whatever the white coats were involved with seemed all-consuming. He closed his eyes as he listened to little snippets of their conversation. Most of it made little sense to the cyborg—he was no scientist. They could have been talking about him and he wouldn't even know it.

"I thought I told you cyborgs aren't capable of falling asleep," Edith said drawing Ziggurat from his reverie.

"I was only listening," he replied opening his eyes once again. "A lot of great minds are at work here. Everyone is speaking in a completely foreign tongue."

"It's called nerd-speak," Edith said with a grin.

"Is _that_ what it's called?" he replied with subtle amusement.

"You know scientists; we like to be as specific as possible. What we do leaves little room for error."

"I would imagine. I suppose that's always the case when meddling with life and death."

"Interesting word choice—as if we were children dealing with adult problems."

"Are you not? The Life Recycling Act must have literally breathed life into an already dying art form. How many failures does this new cybernetic technology have under its belt? All these people here so dedicated to the cause yet still crawling through the dark."

"I wouldn't say the dark. A dimly lit passage, I suppose. But we have you, don't we—a shining example of our growing expertise."

" 'shining', you say," he replied matter-of-factly.

"Like it or not, you are the first of a brand new breed of cyborgs—a more human-like type."

"It's strange, you seem genuinely proud of your achievements; it's infectious."

"I knew you'd see it my way."

"I _understand_ how you see it. That has nothing to do with me agreeing with any of this, but like I've said before, I don't have much of a choice."

"Well, you will eventually," Edith said as she turned back to the screen, but then someone called her name from a distance. "Excuse me, cyborg, we'll have to continue this conversation later."

Ziggurat watched as she stood up and walked over to a growing group of scientists. He closed his eyes once again as he listened to his surroundings. It was oddly stimulating. For too long, he had listened to the sound of his own thoughts. Even if he couldn't fully understand what was going on, he felt as if he were learning something new. After a while, however, he stood up again. He decided he'd return to his room. His pace was extremely slow, but then he became a bit faster.

"Hey, 8, where do you think you're going?" Edith called from behind.

He stopped in his tracks as he heard her approaching feet and waited for her to catch back up. "I wanted to go back to my quarters."

"Bored, are we?"

"Well there's little else to do around here."

"I guess a lab wouldn't be a very entertaining place for you. How do you feel, by the way? It's amazing how you can even move."

"Sometimes, I amaze even myself. I feel as if I weigh a ton. Every footstep is like wading through thick, heavy mud."

"The two surgeries you went through added a lot of weight to your body. In a sense, it's like strapping on weights except it's inside of you. Your muscles aren't used to it, but don't worry this is a foreseen side effect. We'll address the issue later when your body can handle the strain. For now, what you're doing now is good practice."

"Practice?"

"Of course. Something to think about before going through more surgeries to add modifications. The heavier you are, the less agile you are."

"Then I have to be one of the least agile cyborgs."

"Actually, you're the complete opposite. We've spared most of your natural body, so the added weight should be easy to overcome. Do you need any assistance?"

"You're asking _me_ that question? At this point, you know more about my body than I do."

"Point taken." Edith turned and asked for a wheelchair and soon this was what Ziggurat was sitting in. "Now, don't worry, this should be temporary. Eventually, you will be able to move quite easily on your own."

"So you've said before."

"Well, just in case you were feeling a bit embarrassed."

"It's too late to be feeling things like that."

"So if I told you that you had to hop on one leg back to your room, you wouldn't feel the least bit embarrassed."

"Well, I'd make a complete fool of myself if that's what you're getting at."

"Nevermind, I think you've missed my point."

There were plenty of subordinates who could have fulfilled the mundane task of rolling the cyborg back to his assigned room, but for some reason Edith had taken it upon herself to do so. If anyone was a little embarrassed, it was her. She knew the others would start to talk. It was certainly true that she was quite lenient with Ziggurat. Truth be told, there were many things that Edith was prepared to let him get away with. She didn't treat the other cyborgs like she treated model 8. As she opened his door and took him inside, she knew the reason why. As she helped him climb onto his bed, she could no longer hide from the reason. He had made her feel regret for her life's work. He had challenged everything she thought she knew about cyborgs. She knew without a doubt that she had committed a terrible sin not once, but multiple times and she did not plan to stop.


	5. Unconscious Anger

Ziggy the Cyborg

Chapter 5: Unconscious Anger

He couldn't fall asleep, but he found himself closing his eyes as if he was about to do so anyway. Despite all the effort he had put forth yesterday, he simply did not feel like going through anything so rigorous anytime soon. The very thought of how much unnecessary pain he had been in made him cringe. No, today he would stay put as was expected of him. He had nothing to prove. He wasn't trying to impress anyone.

Yet he still tried to sit up and when he did he quickly regretted it as he felt a searing pain in his abdomen. He fell back to his previous position without much choice in the matter. Just then the door behind him opened. He could only guess who it was.

"Ja—I mean, 8, how are you feeling today?" Edith asked as she gently closed the door behind her.

"You should know," Ziggurat said with a groan.

"I hardly know much of anything when it comes to you anymore. Yesterday just proved it."

"Yesterday, I was being silly. I have no idea what came over me, but don't expect a repeat anytime soon."

"So you've finally come to your senses. I guess it makes sense that today might feel a little worse than before after all the activity."

He endeavored to turn on his side and after a few failed attempts he did so. Not that this position felt more comfortable than the last. Everywhere felt far too tender to even touch and so _any_ position would feel unappealing. Ziggurat realized this very quickly.

"Well, you just look downright uncomfortable," Edith said walking a little closer to him.

"Is this what you put your cyborgs through to make them obedient? Was there something I said?"

"No, no, relax. This is all part of the natural process."

"Natural. That word doesn't belong here. Edith just tell me, how much longer?"

"A few weeks, alright."

"Vague."

"A couple more weeks. Three weeks tops."

"I'd rather you'd just kill me now."

"You'll be fine, 8, the time will pass. I've seen the kind of strength you possess. Someone like you can overcome this."

"I won't be able to do it," Ziggurat said in admission, "It's impossible. I know my limits at least. I can't simply continue on like this."

"Don't say that. Look at you, you're doing it now. We're sitting here, having this casual conversation as time is passing and you tell me that it's impossible."

"I can barely move already."

"Well, you're not supposed to move anyhow."

"So just lying still? Is that what you had your other cyborgs do?"

"8, the other cyborgs were unconscious during this time period. The pain is usually too much and they pass out from it. Maybe it's about time that happened to you. It'd really be something if you stayed awake this whole time, but it wouldn't be sensible. Perhaps if you simply relaxed and, I guess, stop thinking all the time, you can stop making things hard on yourself."

Ziggurat turned from his side, back to his previous position. "Fine, I'll do it your way. Perhaps I do think too much."

"That's not a bad thing, mind you, but sometimes it can be inconvenient."

The pain truly was all-encompassing, lying still only made him concentrate on it more. He stilled his mind and simply let the intense soreness reverberate throughout. Then his eyes began to roll back.

"8, are you al—," Edith began rushing to his side, but then she stopped herself when she realized what was happening. "I see," she said turning. "Then I guess we'll talk later."

She began to make her way to the door when she heard some movement from behind. It was unexpected seeing as he had just passed out, but it was there nonetheless. She turned around and then gasped.

He rose out of bed as if a man possessed and when his eyes were directed at her she found herself unable to move. She knew instinctively that something wasn't right, that something just wasn't functioning correctly. There was something missing in that gaze of his as if he were looking at her, but not really.

"8?" she began uncertainly, "Is there…is there something wrong?"

"You disgust me."

"Wha..?" Edith managed after the shock of hearing such a dangerous tone.

"You _disgust_ me!"

He climbed off of the cot so quickly that Edith hardly realized it as he rushed forward and pinned her quite easily to the opposite wall with only a hand around her neck. Immediately, she felt her oxygen supply being cut off quite efficiently. She didn't have time to speak. She shut her eyes when she saw his crazed eyes up close. He was no longer in complete control of his faculties and she hadn't the slightest clue what brought this on. For now, she was on the brink of death and her arms were free. Seconds now and her life would be ended. With the last of her strength, she rummaged through her pocket and pressed a button on a handheld device dedicated for calling for help. Cybernetics dealt with humans and more often than not, the scientists would find themselves in more danger than they bargained for. That button was there for emergencies like these when things got out of hand.

Suddenly, his grip loosened when he noticed her movement. The device was snatched from her hand and destroyed in an instant with a quick flex of his hand. It crackled and bent as easily as a sheet of plain paper.

"You disgust me," he repeated vehemently.

"So you've said," Edith said rubbing her sore neck gently. Somehow she was able to gather her scrambled mind back into order even as he still looked at her with such raw emotion. "I've never seen a cyborg react like this during this stage. Rest assured, the fault is not yours. I was rushing on that first surgery—I must have screwed something up."

"Edith," he said heatedly. "What gives you the _right_?!"

She was backhanded across the face so swiftly that she didn't actually feel the impact until she was on the floor bleeding freely from her mouth.

"Is this what you're going to keep doing?" Edith yelled, "You're going to keep hitting me until I die? I didn't peg you as a person who would abuse women!"

"Quiet!" he yelled back. "You disgust me!"

"Oh yeah, well tell me something new."

She didn't know how long she could keep him talking and really all she was doing was antagonizing him, but she doubt she could actually say something that wouldn't end up doing the same thing. When was help going to get here?

As if the cosmos had been listening, the door ripped open and three guards came rushing in. Edith watched as the cyborg made quick work of them. Yesterday, Ziggurat could barely move faster than a snail, now he was so quick that she could hardly keep up with her own eyes. The bullets couldn't touch him. He cut off all of their oxygen supplies almost simultaneously and before her eyes their throats laid exposed and bleeding profusely. When Ziggurat escaped the room, Edith knew that something wild and dangerous had descended upon their workplace. He needed to be stopped before it turned into a total massacre. Edith took out her communicator that had thankfully not been destroyed. She turned on all channels.

"Listen, model 8 is malfunctioning and is extremely dangerous. Please, whatever you do, keep your distance. He's moving on his own and in all likelihood will kill on contact. Code Red. I repeat Code Red. I think it is best we respond swiftly and hard. He's currently moving down Sector 3. And whatever you do, do _not_ take him out. Incapacitate him if you must, but too much money has gone into engineering him to start over again from scratch."

She clicked off her communicator and took a deep breath. She had done all she could for now, but she knew she wanted to do more. There was a chance that he could still be reached. They had spent quite a bit of time together; perhaps her voice could bring him back. Even if it hadn't happened yet perhaps there was still a chance. Only her face was sore, she could still move quickly enough. She climbed to her feet and followed the cyborg down the hall. He moved with inhuman speed. She might have been impressed if she wasn't also thinking of the massive amount of stress he was putting on his body. He hadn't even begun the conditioning that would prepare his body for such activity. It was all too soon.

"8, wait up!" Edith shouted, but, of course, he didn't respond.

He had turned the corner and she could not see him anymore. Even so, she heard as bodies slammed against the wall. She could have sworn she heard bones shattering. She ran passed unconscious white coats. It took all her strength not to stop and see if they were alright.

"8, you have to stop this!" Edith yelled once again.

Then she heard an increased amount of footsteps. More guards, she assumed. All she heard a few minutes later was the sound of ripping flesh. She stopped in her tracks as she listened to the senseless slaughtering and only peered around the corner when the sounds died down. His back was to her, but she could tell that he was well covered in blood. He seemed to simply stand there perhaps this was her chance. Perhaps he had snapped out of it and become shocked with the carnage before him.

"8! Please, you have to stop this, alright!"

She walked out into the open. He turned so point blank that it caused a nervous shiver to crawl down her back. No, he wasn't back to normal. His eyes were still glazed over with intense emotion.

"You disgust me!"

"No, you disgust me! Look what you've done to those men. Did they really deserve to die?"

"Their deaths are on your conscious. You created me. Now you must reap what you sow."

Edith was mystified for only a moment before shots were fired from behind. Ziggurat stumbled forth and fell to his knees.

"No!" Edith cried, "Don't kill him! Don't you dare kill him!"

She was running towards him over all the bodies. Then she felt a sharp wind flash by her. Before her eyes, Ziggurat had disappeared from sight. She turned on her toes to see behind her—there he was. Electricity pulsated around him and he moved into a fighting stance she was unfamiliar with. He meant business and she was stuck in the middle of it all.

"Dr. Rose, take cover!" one of the guards yelled.

As if her legs had a mind of their own, she was running again towards the nearest room so that she could get out of the hallway. She had a good view of the events that occurred soon after and she was in a safe position. Ziggurat's fist slammed into the concrete floor and the ground rumbled ominously. Then suddenly, the lightning leapt out of the ground right under the foot of all the guards and they all fell at once like fresh cut trees as their bodies stiffened. Edith's eyes grew wide with apprehension.

Ziggurat was on his knees again, his hands on the ground and head bowed. Perhaps the strain had become too much. Perhaps the bullets were beginning to wane on him. Whatever was the case, Edith walked towards him again.

"8, snap out of it already. You've done enough damage."

His body still crackled with electricity, but he was breathing hard.

"You need to quit this before you exhaust yourself irreparably."

"You…disgust me," he said again shakily.

"No, I don't."

"You, most of all. Why do you waste your time here? Why have you chosen this path for yourself?"

"My dream was to advance the human race as a whole and cybernetics is the next stepping stone for humankind."

"You're stepping _backwards_. You will not be remembered. History will shun you. In hindsight, people will look back on these times in disgust. You disgust me."

"What of those guards you slaughtered? How can you stand on your little high horse when you can so callously take life?"

"I can't…" he strained. His fingers scraped through the hard floor a little as he pulled them in. "I can't…control…"

Edith bent down to his level. "Yes, what is it, 8, you can speak to me."

"I can't…control…my body…Please, stand clear."

He seemed to pass out as his body went limp and the electricity died down completely. Edith looked up when she heard pounding feet. A man and his cyborg came into view.

"Oh, is it over already," the man known as Dr. Keif asked when he was within earshot. "I bought my trusty cyborg with me as well—model 7."

"Dr. Keif, I'm afraid you're too late. The deed has been done. Who knows the kind of psychological repercussions this could have on 8?"

"Well, you're the one who wanted a more emotional cyborg. We all know how that can have its downsides."

Model 7 stood motionlessly beside the doctor. His eyes were emotionless and he stared off into the distance. His eyes were green and his hair a pitch black color.

"Take my model 7. He never goes off the handle like this. He follows my instructions willingly, without fuss, and without me having to explain myself. He may not be my friend, but that's not what cyborgs were meant for, he gets the job done. Perhaps you should reconsider your stance on the model 8."

Edith turned when she heard Ziggurat returning to his feet.

"Smith, take him down," Dr. Keif ordered as he moved out of the way.

"8, you don't have to fight him," Edith said as she stood in front of the cyborg with arms spread wide, "There's no need for this."

Ultimately, she was ignored as Ziggurat completely went around her and dashed towards model 7. They were equals when it came to hand to hand combat and Edith watched in fascination at both of their prowess. Combat skills had yet to be programmed into 8, but his movement suggested otherwise, he must have been drawing on previous experience—his body remembered how to defend itself. Edith saw that 8 had the upper hand as he began to get in more and more hits. Electricity began to spark fiercely around him as the fight drew on and he became more and more agitated. She winced as she heard the crunch of metal. Model 7 had put up a good fight, but 8 had managed to dig his hand into the other's chest. Model 7 stiffened as 8 yanked his hand back dismantling the other's heart. Without actually ripping it all the way out, 8 allowed the other one to fall backwards in the most ungraceful of manners.

"Smith!" Dr. Keif yelled out. The doctor ran over to his motionless cyborg quite distraught over the outcome of the battle. "But how? Model 7 is in every way superior. He's received specialized training….he feels no pain…" His eyes looked at Edith who at the moment was at a loss of words. "What demon spawn have you created? If even model 7 cannot subdue him, then we'll have to put him down."

"It won't come to that," Edith said with a hint of desperation. "He made your Model 7 look like child's play. Do you really want to get rid of all that progress?"

"He'll be the death of us all, Dr. Rose."

Edith turned to Ziggurat again as he began to move once again, but this time he was clearly unbalanced as if the battle before had taken more out of him than he had first let on.

"8, please listen to me, you have to stop this."

He was breathing heavily as if his stamina was beginning to give out. He could no longer walk in a straight line as he placed one foot in front of the other. Then she saw others in the distance. Edith moved passed the cyborg's now lethargic movement so that she could find out what the security team was planning to do.

To her surprise, she saw Model 4 and 5 among them. The both of them wore the same emotionless expression as Model 7. She knew that they stood no chance at all with 8 even in his weakened condition, but maybe she was being too pessimistic, too proud of her own creation.

"What are you planning?" Edith asked the man who seemed to be in charge of the group.

"We need you to lead him to the isolation room up ahead. He seems to respond to you. Are you willing to do that, Dr. Rose?"

"Anything. What happens when I get him there?"

"You get out of there as quickly as humanly possible and then we'll send in Model 4 and 5 at the same time. They should be able to overwhelm him. I've heard they were programmed specifically to fight well in tandem to each other and it seems like your Model 8 is already wearing down."

"You don't plan on killing him, do you?" Dr. Rose asked worriedly.

"Look, you doctors need to learn to leave security to sensible people who don't want to see more lives taken away senselessly. You'd sacrifice a thousand of my men for one of your silly experiments that can't even be called a human anymore. That being said, those other two cyborgs have been ordered to incapacitate him and that's all, but if need be, they will put that cyborg of yours down permanently."

"Alright," Dr. Rose said taking a deep breath, "I see your point. The death toll is becoming too high for one single cyborg." Even so, Edith felt that she was capable of sending a thousand more men to their deaths for the sake of her one cyborg, but that was beside the point.

Edith made her way to the other cyborg once again. His pace was much the same. She tried to draw his eyes towards her, but he wouldn't look at her. Exhaustion was written all over his face. How long would he continue in this way?—until he dropped from lack of energy? He continued to follow the path of the hallway without much provocation from her. She knew that if no one attacked him outright, he wouldn't retaliate, but he still needed to be brought under proper control.

The doors to Isolation Room 1 fizzled open upon his approach. He didn't so much as pause before stepping right in. Edith knew she was meant to get out of the way, but she simply couldn't leave Ziggurat to his fate. Despite the guard's admonishments, she stayed inside the room along with 8.

"8, it's alright now, you don't have to fight anymore. No one is going to attack you. You should rest now."

He was standing still once again and he made no response to her words. He turned when the door opened and closed revealing the two cyborgs. There was no time for greetings as they sprang on Model 8 almost immediately, but "almost" was what betrayed them. Edith shouted in horror as 8 bashed their heads against one another after evading their initial attack. The two cyborgs sank to the ground immediately and eventually so did 8.

"8!" Edith shouted again for what felt like the millionth time, "It's okay now. You don't have to fight anymore."

She put her hands on his shoulders as she came to her knees as well. He was looking down in apparent exhaustion. She was unprepared when one of his hands took hold of one of her wrists with all the intention of breaking it. His hateful eyes were on her again.

"You disgust me," he said again as if it were some kind of mantra.

"8, please, you're going to—"

Her words were cut short as she felt her wrist snap in two as if it were no more than a twig and she cried out in utter pain. She yelled out uncontrollably. It was the kind of pain that sent chills to her bones. She wanted it to be taken away immediately, but her hand still hung there limply, unmoving. In that same moment, the doors fizzed open once more and the guards moved in. Edith had to be dragged out. For some reason, she simply did not want to be parted from the cyborg. She feared what they might do to him.

"Don't hurt him!" she heard herself crying over and over again.

The guards emptied the room swiftly and the doors were closed before the cyborg could escape, but then they didn't have much to worry about he hadn't so much as climbed to his feet again. Even so, since he was there by himself, they released a near lethal dose of neural gas into the chamber. Edith finally shut up and held her breath as all of this went on. There was still a chance that her cyborg could pull through this relatively unscathed.

"We would leave him," began the head guardsmen, "But the other two cyborgs are still in there and the white coats say that it's possible that they can be salvaged. Once the gas gets into his system, we should be able to transport him to another chamber."

"_Another_ chamber?" Edith asked with disbelief. "So is this your big plan just keep him locked up? How does that solve the problem? He needs medical attention."

"That's all we can do for right now, Dr. Rose. Take it or leave it. You're lucky he isn't just killed outright for all the trouble he's caused."

Edith turned from him and said nothing more, but gave him a curt nod. The thirty minutes they stood there waiting felt more like thirty hours. She was told to stand back as a group of well-armed men came forth with masks and a rolling bed. She strained to see what was happening after they came out of the chamber. They were unhurt and it seemed no incident had occurred. The cyborg was strapped securely to the bed. As they rolled by, she could tell that he was completely knocked out. She went with them instinctively and no one tried to stop her.

She was beyond relieved. Finally, they could put this entire incident behind them. They turned down a few hallways before they inched towards the end of their journey. But before they got there, Edith saw his hands move and his body jolt as if struck by lightning.

"Oh, no," Edith muttered with a hint of fear.

The guards saw it as well. "Don't worry, Dr. Rose. He shouldn't be able to break free from the restraints, they're top grade."

The bed began to shake in 8's attempts at trying to break free. Edith shuttered to think what might have happened had he been at his peak. It was like he was catching a second wind as if energy had simply returned to him.

"8, calm yourself."

His eyes looked feverish now and red rimmed with apparent exhaustion as he turned towards her voice. "I…can't…"

"Yes, I know, you can't control it."

"I…can't…take it…"

"What?"

"The pain…"

Another jolt went through his body and she could clearly see the pain written on his features. His eyes widened in unseen terror.

"I can't…" he whispered shakily, "It's too much…"

Edith looked down and noticed his hands were clenched hard to the point that she saw strings of blood crawling down. "He needs medical attention. I can't let you guys throw him into some room while he's like this. I—"

"Dr. Rose, this is for everyone's protection. He is too unstable to risk being around normal personnel. In the interest of your wishes, Dr. Rose, we will isolate him; it is the only alternative to putting him down outright."

"Please, don't…" 8 began to say, "Please, don't…"

"What are you saying, 8," Edith asked looking down at him.

"Please don't…leave me…please don't…"

She could hear it now, the fear in his voice. Had it been there before and she had simply missed it? Her heart cried out for him, but she knew that there was little she could do now. The guards wouldn't allow her to stay with him no matter how much clout she had. She'd used all her authority simply to convince the others to keep him alive. Asking for more than that was out of the question.

"I'm sorry, 8. I can't go with you."

But he continued to repeat himself even as they arrived at the doors and they fizzed open before them. As his bed was rolled in, his voice rose in utter desperation and confusion. The guards left him there and the doors closed with a snap. All the time, Edith could still hear him, pleading for her presence. Soon she was left there in the hallway turned from the door with silent tears spilling down her face. What had she done? What torture would he be subject to separate from the rest of the world?

She went home that day perhaps more depressed than she had ever been in her twenty-three years of life. She laid awake in her bed unable to get her eyes to close. She imagined him curled somewhere in a corner, shivering not from the cold but from his utter loneliness. What sort of pain traversed through him? She rubbed her wrist that cried out in protest with even the slightest of touches. Was it like that? Could it be something that a reasonable person could bear? Edith doubted it. Ziggurat had done far too much in too little time and his body was not prepared for it. She could hope all she wanted, but the pain that he felt now was one that could drive even the stoutest of men insane. How could she even begin to hope that he would be fine after twenty one days of isolation? Try as she might, she couldn't shorten the days. No one would budge on the amount of time he was to spend in there. In fact, some people felt the time to be too short.

Edith spent the twenty one days recovering from her injuries. She made no attempts at coming back in to work. She wouldn't be able to handle working with people who could torture people as they did Ziggurat. She also couldn't face the guilt of her cyborg killing off so many of the guards. She couldn't be bothered with any of it. She simply wanted to be left alone and those days passed just as slowly as molasses.


	6. Aftermath

Chapter 6: Aftermath

On the twenty-second day, Edith returned to work with a heavy heart. She knew he'd be back in his usual room. She had been called the day before informing her that his temperament had returned to normal and that he was no longer a security risk. She knew she had a long road ahead of her. She couldn't be certain what had set off the cyborg until she ran her tests, but she suspected that it had to do with irregular brain activity and the first procedure.

As she entered the room she tried to keep a neutral face, but she wondered if the guilt could still be seen there.

"And how are you feeling today, 8?"

When he didn't respond, she became concerned. She walked up to him to see how he was faring. He seemed to be in shock as his eyes stared absently at the ceiling. She waved her hand quickly in front of his eyes and she got a start out of him as he blinked once. He noticed her then as his eyes turned towards her. His expression was unfathomable.

"How are you feeling?" Edith asked again.

He didn't answer, only stared at her with eyes that seemed capable of burning holes into her.

"8, I'm sorry for what happened. I…should have been more thorough with my checkups. It's just, you seemed normal enough. But it's over now. I can make sure what happened before doesn't happen again. Now say something already!"

His gaze was becoming unsettling. In fact, she was becoming a bit annoyed with his unresponsiveness. She couldn't be sure if he was really comprehending what she was saying.

"I…won't make that mistake again," he finally said.

His voice sounded raw from overuse as if…She closed her eyes when she thought of the implications. Had he been crying out for her this whole time? What exactly had happened in that room?

"8, I'm here now. I won't let anything like that happen again."

He turned himself away from her and said nothing more.

"Fine," Edith said with creased eyebrows. Then she sighed. "I guess it is silly for me to make such promises now. I can only do the best I can. Now, I need to run more tests on you to see what went wrong. Is that alright?" Edith didn't expect a response and she received none. "Can you move on your own now?"

Ziggurat sat up for her benefit, but he never did meet her gaze.

"Now follow me to the lab."

Edith, deciding that it was a waste of energy to engage the other in real dialogue, simply began moving towards the main lab. She looked behind herself once to make sure that he was following—he did so silently. Unlike before, he had no trouble at all walking. Despite everything, it brought a smile to her face. Physically, he had become stronger.

She was bringing him to a much smaller lab than the one he had visited before. He didn't need the added stress of so many prying eyes just yet. When they made it there, Edith indicated for the other to take a seat.

"Now, remain as still as you can and put your arms on the armrests."

Edith sat down at a computer nearby and switched on the maintenance chair that Ziggurat sat in. She heard the soft hum of the chair as it sprang to life. After only a few seconds, his vital statistics began to appear on the screen. To the laymen, such numbers were a foreign language, but her mind was already analyzing the information.

"Everything appears to be in working order," Edith said to herself. "Even your brain activity is normal." She sighed then. "This is only surface data…Under duress, things could be different." Edith began to fiddle with the buttons on the console. "I'm going to increase your heart rate. Do not be alarmed," she said louder.

Different numbers appeared this time, but it was nothing out of the ordinary.

"We'll have to figure out what triggered that episode."

Edith began to readjust his vitals: blood pressure, sweat production, emotional stress, physical stress, and even pain levels. Each time, the numbers would tell her something different. Though enlightening, it did not solve the mystery.

"So trial and error is your end all solution," Ziggurat said after a while of Edith's endeavors.

Edith could tell immediately that he was annoyed. It caught her off guard. After such a long span of silence, she doubted she'd ever hear from the old 8 she had become acquainted with. Quite frankly, she thought that person to be gone for good. He was simply too much in shock.

"If you want to know how it happened so badly, why don't you just ask me?"

Edith looked up from her computer and twirled her chair towards him. "Firsthand accounts aren't as reliable as raw data. That's what I need right now."

"And how far have you gotten taking that route?"

"I've found some intriguing data, but nothing that could point towards what actually happened back then."

"I don't much like the control you exert over my functions. It would be easier for both of us if I just led you in the right direction."

"Oh, right," Edith said as if something had just dawned on her. "I apologize for making you feel so uncomfortable. I can't imagine how it must feel being subject to what seems like wanton changes in your vitals. You must understand that this is a necessary step, 8."

"I offer you a solution and all you can do is patronize me."

"Patronize? No, of course not."

"Then hear me out."

"Alright, then. It is good that you are still willing to speak to me."

Ziggurat gave an exasperated sigh. He deemed it a waste of time to mention his dislike for her tone; he simply went on with what he had wanted to say from the outset. "I was unconscious that day, do you remember?" he began.

"Yes, I do."

"I had passed out from the pain. It was quite easy to simply let go as you suggested. However, the moment I let go of my control, another part of me took over—a part that was not unconscious for some strange reason, an emotion that remained unrestrained even by my current condition."

"Do you mean anger?"

"Yes. I knew everything. I was aware the entire time. I remember vividly when I pounced on you for no other reason than that I disliked you and all that you stood for."

"Y-You do?"

"Yes. But I wasn't myself. I couldn't understand that then. My understanding was quite limited. It is only in hindsight that I am able to reflect. There is some part of me, my brain perhaps, that will not rest—it is constantly 'on'."

"I see. I think I know what you're talking about. It seems your brain doesn't function properly while unconscious. That's an easy fix."

"It seemed so obvious to me, but you could not, with all your prowess, come to the same conclusion."

"8, technology works poorly where emotions are involved. I suppose I should have asked you first after all. I forget that you are not like the other cyborgs. Some of the problems you will face will be different from theirs. But that's how I like it. I know all my hard work will pay off in the end."

"At the cost of how many lives? How many is too much for your standards?"

Now that she knew that he was aware of his actions from before, she looked at him in a different light. "Now, 8, those guards—

"Died unnecessarily. Wouldn't the cost have been more reasonable if you had simply downed me from the beginning?"

"You could have killed me where I stood. You think I have that kind of power?"

"From what I've seen here today. You have the power to make me _do_ anything, _feel_ anything you so desire. It wouldn't be much of a stretch to also have access to some kind of kill switch."

"Oh, 8…" Edith began in annoyance.

"Am I right?"

"You're too perceptive for your own good. Fine, I'll just tell you since you're so keen on it. There is a "kill switch" as you say, but it is only for emergency. What happened before was _not_ an emergency. Only I and a few others know that this exists."

"Privileged information, I see. For a secret, it wasn't hiding itself very well. It'd be a very drastic oversight if such a thing _didn't_ exist."

"I think that investigator persona of yours make things seem obvious when they're not. I don't know how I can hide anything from you. Limited as your conscious knowledge is, you still manage to outsmart me."

"I wouldn't know. I can only take your word for it."

"Trust me, 8, you have an affinity for finding out things you'd be better off not knowing." She turned back to the glowing monitor behind her and once again began to tinker with the panel.

Ziggurat expected to feel the effects of whatever she was doing, but the feeling never came. Instead, he heard as the humming in the chair slowly died down.

"So, Edith, am I due for another surgery?"

"I'm afraid so, but it's nothing you didn't realize already. It's pertinent that we fix this problem of yours quickly."

Ziggurat was soon following the other out of the lab. They returned promptly to his room and he was then told to lie on the cot once again. He had already gone through two procedures before; he knew what to do before she actually ordered him to do anything.

"Don't worry, 8, you're in good hands. You're looking at a world renowned cybernetics surgeon. Ziggurat Corporation paid top dollar for my skills and I intend to give them what they paid for."

"Interesting that you feel the need to reassure me. You've never done as much before."

"I thought you might be a bit nervous this time around. Let's face it; you've yet to simply recover from these surgeries without any hiccups."

"I trust in your skills. I may gripe about your methods, I may question you at every turn, but I've never doubted that you've been putting forth your best effort."

"You…really think that?" Edith asked unprepared for such a compliment from him.

"I'd rather you felt confident about yourself before operating. Worrying about whether I'm nervous or not is beside the point."

"You're, right," she said slowly. She wondered how true his compliment had been then. If he was simply trying to make her feel better, then she could only take it with a grain of salt. Even so, it still made her feel inexplicably better about herself.

She took him into the usual operating room and Lyn was already there prepping his body.

"Don't worry, 8, your trust isn't in vain. I won't ever abandon you like I did before."

She wondered if he had heard as he slowly fell into unconsciousness. Lyn stifled a giggle as Edith walked over to her trusty implements. Edith looked at the other with a perturbed expression.

"Sounds like you guys are close. You're _far_ too nice to him—it won't do him any good."

"How can you say that, Lyn? Having a friendly relationship has an overall positive effect on his emotions. _That's_ what I'm most concerned."

"You sure that's all?" Lyn asked slyly. "You already know my stance on your choice of leaving his emotions unrestrained."

"Yes, I know."

"You talk to him as if he is your equal. The only thing you've accomplished is confusing his perception of where he stands in society. It won't do him a lick of good if he begins to expect the same treatment you give him from other people."

"Lynn!"

"Now, I'm not saying that society is correct—I'm only stating the reality of things. You're not doing him any favors babying him like you do. I bet you've neglected to tell him just how much control we have over him. We can control how he thinks, when he thinks, what he feels, how he responds to people. We can make him into any person we choose. It is only your decision to keep his original faculties that has allowed him to act as he pleases. Have you told him all of that?"

Edith shook her head. "No…but I'm sure he suspects it."

"Suspect? Is that how you'll leave things? You tell him everything don't you—tell him that. You should teach him what it means to be a cyborg. _That_ would be beneficial."

"He'll know soon enough," Edith replied exasperatedly, "I don't think we should be having this conversation now, Lyn. I'm _trying _to concentrate on surgery."

"Then concentrate. It's only you and me in here this time. You never used to complain before."

"Well, I wasn't working on a patient who I failed with in the past."

Edith had already made the initial incision into his head and sought out the anomaly in the part of the brain she knew it would be.

"You haven't failed with him—at least surgery wise. There were simply unforeseen circumstances. I don't know of too many doctors that can handle a patient waking up like he did. That sort of thing simply doesn't happen anymore. It threw all of us off."

"What do you think happened? You said he resisted the drugs, but how was that possible in a deceased body?"

Lyn could only shrug, "I don't know. We don't fully understand the intricacies of our craft. Sometimes, I think we're just children playing with fire…"

"You know, that's exactly what 8 said in so many words."

"Quite thoughtful, isn't he? That could wind up being a bad thing."

"Here we go again," Edith said exasperatedly.

"Cyborgs aren't meant to be thoughtful creatures. They were meant to fulfill the tasks set out in front of them. His mind would be wasted on such simple things."

"He won't be doing 'simple' things. I plan to make full use of his capabilities. I'm sure he can outperform any normal cyborg."

"What will you have him do?"

"Missions that require tact and precision. Missions that are too dangerous for a human to do alone."

"Well, if he happens to excel at such things, he would become an invaluable piece of equipment."

"I can always count on you to downgrade a cyborg to a 'piece of equipment'."

"That's _all_ they are, you know. If you think of them like that, wouldn't you think it cruel to give such a thing human emotions? Make a thing feel as if they were human, but they're not and they never will be. That's like waving a slab of steak in front of a dog just because you feel sorry for its eventual starvation and then death. Just like that dog, you'll keep giving your cyborg the illusion of hope, that there is something _more_ out there, when there isn't. He will never be more than a cyborg because we've created him that way."

"You didn't have a lot of friends growing up, did you?"

"Heh, you think I'm being too callous? I like to say what I feel, Edith. I don't sugarcoat like you're so keen on doing."

"That's what you like to think, but we all know that you're just a pessimist at heart."

"You know, maybe you're right, but that attitude has served me well so far."

"So it has. I think these emotions that I've allowed 8 to have will be of great use to him. He can then use things like common sense. Become aware of things without having someone spoon-feed him the information. Eventually, he will become a great asset to the human race."

"That's a bold claim. For your sake, I hope you're right. So far, your cyborg has been more trouble than he's worth. Let's not have a repeat of that last incident."

"All I can do is my best and for 8 that's good enough."

"In the end, 8 doesn't have much say in the matter, does he? Monitor him closely this time."

"You don't have to tell me twice." By now, Edith was suturing up her previous incision. She was done with the operation. "How do his vitals look?"

"Remarkably normal considering his track record."

"I guess the third time's the charm."

Edith went off to clean herself as was part of the routine right after surgery. Eventually, she went off to Ziggurat's room to check if he was alright. She walked into his room to find that he was still unconscious. It was surprising considering how substances had a hard time affecting the cyborg. She took out a small device from her pocket: a full body scanner. Making sure the device was only a few inches away from his body, she ran the device down the length of it slowly.

"What's that thing…?" Ziggurat asked in a voice that distinctively sounded like he had just woken up from a nap.

"Oh," Edith said a little surprised turning her head to him. "This? It's a full-body scanner. I've decided it would behoove me to keep a closer eye on you."

"I see. You can't afford for something like last time to happen again."

"Well, yes. My reputation _is_ on the line. What I'm doing is already considered controversial."

"What, grave robbing?"

"Very funny, 8. No, the fact that I've left your emotions untouched."

"I do remember the expressionlessness of the other cyborgs I faced. It was eerie."

"That's how a cyborg is usually designed. They follow orders and that is all."

"You mean, you deliberately made me seem more human?"

"Yes, that's what I said. You seem troubled by that."

"I don't understand your reasoning behind doing that. Why would you want to make an object feel more human? It's contradictory. No, even more than that—cruel."

"Cruel? That's exactly what Lynn said. It's like you too are carbon copies. Always so blunt, neither of you can see the forest through the trees."

"Wait, who's Lynn?"

"Oh, sorry, she's just a friend of mine. She's always does surgeries with me so we talked a little today. The point is, neither one of you value the importance of emotions."

"I do value such things as emotions perhaps more than you do. How would you like it if you woke up one day feeling as you usually do, believing that you're the same person as you were yesterday only to find out that you're not? That everything you are or think that you are is a lie. That you are even less than you were before yet you've been created to _act_ as if that's not the case. You, a renowned scientist, would not like to be treated with any less respect than you deserve or as if you've accomplished nothing in life."

"8, I didn't think of it like that. I wasn't…trying to make things difficult. Besides, your metaphor isn't entirely accurate. You're not just an 'object', you are a form of artificial intelligence. A cyborg that can respond in a humanly way to situations is a precious ability. I don't think I fully understand your difficulties."

"I was human once upon a time," Ziggurat began slowly, "and I innately know how to act like one. Constantly, every day I have to remind myself that I am no longer human that I'm something different. I always have to think to myself before I do anything whether it's something a human would do or a cyborg. Quite honestly, I don't always have the right answer. Sometimes, I'd rather not have to concern myself with it, but I know eventually I'll have to fully accept what I am—it just won't be so easy. And you're not making it very easy."

"So you think I'm being too nice as well," Edith stated rather than questioned. "You think I should be harder on you?"

"As a cyborg, I cannot even begin to tell you how you should treat me."

"Very funny, 8, but I want you to give me a real answer—a thoughtful one."

"If it pleases you: since you are the person who 'created' me, I think you should treat me however way you intended to from the outset. I do not think you should change based off of my opinion. You have the sort of expertise in this field that I lack. Do as you see fit."

"Very well then. I value your opinion though, 8. Remember that. If something upsets you or you see something wrong or worth commenting on, do not hesitate to say what you feel. I want you to continue to use the abilities I've allowed you to have to its fullest."

"Even it might upset you?"

"Even then. Do not spare my feelings. Does that clear things up?"

"I'm supposed to be obedient to you and all others who are my superiors, but at the same time you want me to make my own decisions even if I may cease being obedient. Yes, that clears _everything_ up."

Edith sighed, "I guess I am contradicting myself. I don't know how else to say it. You'll just have to find that balance, 8, between your free will and obedience. Things sounded a lot better on paper. I didn't think I'd be running into trouble like this."

"Perhaps next time you'll plan better for your projects before jumping into them."

"I'm not afraid to get my feet wet. Now, 8, I want to tell you a bit of exciting news. Barring a few more operations you are due for, you'll be ready for the next step—physical conditioning."

"I fail to see how that's exciting."

"Well, there's more activity. I promise you, you won't be bored any longer. This is where things start to pick up."


End file.
